Disclaimer: Not mine.
Nancy and George sat in a Network building on 8th Street in Chicago. The building looked innocent enough; it was under the cover of being a law office. Looking around on the inside, however, the building reminded the three detectives more of a police station: private offices, briefing rooms, containment cells, and the odd interrogation room, which was where the Gray Man had taken O' Toole.
One of the benefits of being a shady government organization was being able to...bend the rules of the Geneva Convention, which stipulated that there could be no switching off in the middle of questioning prisoners. As it was, the Assassin has been in questioning for nearly nine hours now, and not a word had been squeezed out of him. Once he had regained consciousness and had his wounded hand tended to, he had gone straight into the room with the mirrored walls, followed by he Gray Man, a network-employed psychiatrist, and several other men whose only purpose seemed to be physical intimidation.
Nancy was bored out of her mind. She was incredibly tired but too wired to sleep. She rested her head on George's shoulder and let her mind wander through the events of the past few days. Frank's return, Joe's injury, O' Toole's capture... she hoped the Assassin was getting what was coming to him, because if the Network didn't make him pay Nancy thought she might have to. And Joe... Nancy hadn't heard from the hospital, so she could only assume that his condition was unchanged.
George glanced at her watch. "I'm sorry, Nan, but I have to head down to the station if I'm going to make my shift. I don't want Charlie to have to cover for me again." Nancy lifted her head from her friend's shoulder and George gave her a sad smile. "Give me a call if the guy starts to talk."
Nancy simply nodded as George left the office. She almost made up her mind to call the hospital and check up on Joe, but she wasn't in the mood for any more discouraging news. She decided to see how O' Toole was holding up. Getting up, she walked down the hall and joined Frank in the observation room. The room was small and plain with no furniture save a large table in the middle of the room, but offered a clear view of the interrogation room through a one-way mirror. A speaker allowed observers to hear what was happening in the next room. "Any progress?" she asked Frank, peering through the window.
Frank shook his head grimly. "You know the problem with Assassins: they're conditioned against giving away the group's information. The Gray Man drugged him with some kind of truth serum, but whenever O' Toole even tries to tell something, he can't. It's physically painful for him."
"So?" Nancy said indifferently. She wasn't sparing any pity for the man.
"Well, we don't want him to die." Frank said. "It's so rare to capture a live Assassin."
"He deserves death and more." Nancy said, reaching down to turn the speakers up.
The Gray Man's voice filled the room. "Why did the Assassins send you after Frank Hardy five years ago?" he asked sternly. The Assassin sat in the middle of the room, which was mostly dark with the ever-so-clichéd hanging lightbulb casting a cone of light over the group of people. He saw shaking uncontrollably; had he been anyone else, Nancy would have pitied him.
"My...my superiors wanted revenge on the... Hardy family... for- uuungh." O' Toole tried to finish his sentence and ended up gasping in pain. His brain refused to let him talk about past orders.
Frank turned away from the window. "It's been like that all day." He said, sounding a little frustrated. "Whatever they ask, he can't tell them."
Nancy's brow furrowed. "What have they been asking?"
"Oh, you know, questions about the Assassins, what their plans are..." Frank trailed off, looking at Nancy's hardened expression and red-rimmed eyes that seemed to have become semi-permanent. "Nancy?"
Nancy turned to him. "Hmm?" she murmured absently.
Frank suddenly couldn't phrase what he needed to say. "I... I'm sorry about Joe. If I had known they were after me I never would have gone to you guys, and... no matter how I feel about you, Nan, I would never want anything to happen to Joe. Never. If I could have jumped in front of him when thse bullets hit I would have done it without a second thought, no matter if we were in the middle of a fight... Nothing is worth more to me than my brother... You know that, right?" Frank stopped as his voice cracked painfully.
Nancy wanted to say that the thought had never crossed her mind, but she knew that Frank was being honest with her, and she had to do him the same courtesy. Instead she said, "Of course I do. I shouldn't have doubted it for a second. I... I know Joe wouldn't have... And I know this isn't your fault. Nobody blames you for what happened to Joe. I'm sorry, Frank, for ever making you think it was your fault... I was wrong." She lapsed off into shameful silence, her mind as well as her tearful gaze slowly returning to the Assassin in the window.
Frank felt a little lighter, but he had so much more to talk about with Nancy. He had no idea how to broach the subject, but he had to try. He started tentatively. "I... I know we haven't really gotten a chance to talk since... well, about five years ago... A lot of things have changed since them, but-"
"That's their problem!" Nancy cut him off with her sudden exclamation. She'd only been half-listening, most of her attention was on the interrogation. "They're asking him the wrong things! No wonder he can't talk!" She was mostly talking to herself.
Frank made a feeble attempt to switch topics without feeling too foolish. "Nancy? What are you talking about? Are you even listening?"
Nancy met his eyes for a brief second. "Sorry, Frank, but we'll have to talk later. This is important!" That said, she rushed out of the observation room.
What I have to say is important too, Frank thought, momentarily dejected. After a second of standing alone, his curiosity got the best of him and he followed Nancy out of the room. He caught up with her in the hallway. She was knocking on the door to the interrogation room. "What are you doing?" Frank asked. "Once the door's been shut, you can't go in there until the questioning is over."
"I think I can get him to talk." Nancy said. "Besides, when has the Network ever followed the Geneva Code?"
"Good point." Frank conceded as the heavy door swung open and the Gray Man looked out, bleary-eyed and frustrated. "What is it?" he snapped crossly.
"Don't bite my head off." Nancy said. "But I have some questions I'd like to ask."
"Oh, I suppose you'll be able to squeeze something out of him when specialists have been working on him for the past ten hours with nothing to show for it?" the Gray Man said rhetorically.
"You've been asking him questions about the Network this whole time, right?" Nancy asked.
The Gray Man nodded impatiently.
Nancy continued excitedly. "Have you tried questioning him on his own actions, his own motivations, instead of his organization?"
The Gray Man frowned. "What do you mean?"
"The Assassins condition their agents not to give away their secrets," Nancy said. "But how could they condition them against revealing their feelings and motives? They don't always know what their agents are thinking; they can't censor thoughts or the agent would be of no use to them! They'd be brainwashed, unable to think rationally!"
The Gray Man rolled his eyes at her little tirade. "All right, Nancy. Come on in and give it a try. But don't be surprised if you can't get around this guy's mental block. We've given him a truth drug, but he just can't tell us anything." He held the door wide for her to enter, and she approached the prisoner carefully, Frank right behind her.
O' Toole's eyes were glazed, a direct result of the drug, but they lit up with hazy glee as Nancy came into view. "Well, well, well," he slurred jeeringly. "It's the soon-to-be Widow Hardy."
Nancy clenched her fists in anger and felt Frank's hand on her shoulder. "Don't let him mess with you." he whispered in her ear. "He's lashing out because he's scared."
Nancy nodded tautly, but she let her features relax. "Why did you come back to kill Frank yesterday?" she asked suddenly. The Assassin's face twisted into a pained grimace. Nancy mentally kicked herself. "Let me rephrase that. You wanted to do the job yourself instead of having someone else do it, didn't you?"
O' Toole nodded reluctantly. "I did."
"How did you know that?" one of the specialists in the room asked Nancy.
Nancy shrugged. "The other thirteen were killed in their homes in their sleep, but the attempt on Frank's life was at my house, in broad daylight. Different style of killing, different killer. Plus O' Toole was the one who kidnapped him in the first place; it would have been quite a coincidence if he'd been randomly selected to finish the job on Frank."
Frank raised his eyebrows. "Looks like you were right."
Nancy frowned back down at O' Toole. "Why? Why did you want the job for yourself?"
The Assassin struggled with giving away his personal information, but whatever they had drugged him with made argument impossible. "...Pride." he rasped finally. "I... I was the first person in the history of the Assassins to successfully defeat one of the illustrious Hardys... Not counting Iola," he added with a frown. "Although her death was unintentional."
Nancy knew the terrorist spoke of Joe's first serious girlfriend Iola Morton, who had been mistakenly killed in an Assassin car bomb meant for the Hardys. Frank hand tightened on her shoulder. He had known Iola personally, and had seen firsthand the effect her death had had on his brother. He hadn't thought Joe would ever love again, but...
"You were too proud to let Frank get away?" Nancy questioned.
"Yes." the prisoner sighed. "I thought if I killed him now it would... undo my mistake...of not killing him before."
"Is that why you decided not to wait for night to do the job?" Nancy asked.
"...Yes." the Assassin mumbled helplessly through clenched teeth. "I wanted him dead... as soon as possible." His thoughts came pouring out of him and he couldn't stop them. "I should not have let my pride... haste... get to me... I should have followed the plan-" All of the sudden, he began writhing in pain, twisting in his chair.
"He's coming too close to the conditioned part of his brain." Frank observed worriedly. "Maybe we should ask him something unrelated to the Assassins."
Nancy blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "What's your favorite color?"
O' Toole gave her a semi-scathing look as he was forced to answer. "Green." But the waves of pain stopped vibrating through his head.
Frank let out a laugh. "That might have been too off-topic." he said, seeing the look of disdain on the Gray Man's face.
Nancy gave a half-smile at the absurdity of her question, but the smile was gone as her cell phone vibrated a second later. The took the phone from her pocket, pausing for just a second. It had to be someone at the hospital: this call could be the one telling her Joe was conscious. Or that he was dead. Hand shaking slightly, she answered it. "Hello? Mom." she glanced up at Frank. "Yes, he's here. Now how is-" she stopped suddenly.
Everyone in the room watched her intently, with the exception of O' Toole, who seemed to be having trouble focusing on much of anything. Frank was almost on top of her, straining to hear whatever the caller was saying.
Nancy's face broke into a wide grin. "He's awake! Joe's awake!" she cried. Frank joined her in relieved laughter. "Be right there." she promised into the phone, hanging up. She glanced around the room briefly. "I've got to go." she said, tears of joy clouding her vision. Without waiting for a response, she yanked on the door handle and let herself out, flying down the hallway.
Frank cast a glance at the Gray Man. "Go on." sighed the Network agent. "We can handle things here. And I know you've been just as worried as Nancy." He paused for a second before saying, "Say hi to Joe for me."
Frank grinned. "Will do." he said, backing towards the door. "Thank you." he exited calmly, but the Network agents could hear his running footsteps in the hall in hot pursuit of Nancy.
When he got down to the street he was surprised to see Nancy pull up to the curb in her bullet-battered car. "Need a lift?" she called with a smirk.
Frank climbed into the passenger seat and buckled his belt as the car shot off towards River Heights Hospital. The rush of air blowing through the missing windshield not only made their eyes sting and their hair whip about, but it rendered conversation nearly impossible. Neither Frank nor Nancy said a word until the car pulled to a stop in the hospital parking lot.
"Wow..." Frank said as he got out of the car, wiping his eyes. "We need to get that window fixed ASAP. I'm surprised you didn't get pulled over!"
"Just lucky, I guess." Nancy shrugged, brushing glass pellets out of her clothes as she headed for the entrance. "I'll be finding these glass beads everywhere for the next few weeks."
As the pair headed for Joe's room in the ICU, Frank commented, "I was surprised you waited for me outside of the Network building. I figured you'd be long gone by the time I got out."
Nancy smiled softly. "I know Joe means at least as much to you as he does to me." she said. Even if you don't always show it, she added silently, it's true.
They stopped in front of Joe's room and saw Carson Drew waving to them from down the hall. "Nancy, Frank!" He came up to them and hugged his daughter. "Joe's been moved out of intensive care." he told them. "He's been asking for you."
"He has?" Nancy felt weak with happiness that Joe was doing so well.
Carson nodded. "Both of you." He led them down to another room. Fenton and Laura were just coming out.
"How is he doing?" Nancy asked them.
"He feels horrible." Fenton chuckled. "But he'll never admit it."
"That's our Joe." Frank and Nancy said together. They looked at each other in surprise. Their parents took turns exchanging glances as they moved off down the hall.
Nancy shrugged it off and said seriously. "Frank, why don't you go on in first?"
Frank was tempted, but as much as it pained him, he knew she needed to see Joe first. He had lost his position as the most important person in Joe's life, and Nancy had gained it. "No." he said. "You go first. He needs to see you."
Nancy frowned and took his hand. "We can both go in." she suggested.
Frank pulled his hand back. "I think you guys need to be alone. I'll give you a few minutes." He walked away toward his parents, leaving Nancy standing in front of Joe's door alone.
Taking a deep breath for composure and quickly drying her tears with her hand, Nancy entered Joe's room.
A/N: So I lied: Frank and Nancy don't have their heart-to-heart just yet (well, they do have just a small one, but there's more), and Joe wasn't technically in the chapter (although you know how he is, at least). But he will most definitely be in the next one. Reviews, please: this was a long one. Tell me what you think!